


Flight Patterns

by togekissies



Series: Fairytale AU [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Modern Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togekissies/pseuds/togekissies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's used to the cycle: move someplace new, find out his new roommate had the misfortune of falling for him, then move someplace new. This has been happening all his life, he's had plenty of time to get used to it.</p><p>That doesn't explain why this time he doesn't want to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thanks for clicking this fic! fairytale au is one of my favorite aus, but it's also significantly larger than the fics i've published to ao3 show. my challenge with this fic was to try to bring in more of the characters, but that's so out of my usual comfort zone it took a while.
> 
> because i'm a nerd i have extra information about the folklore inspiration at the end, but you don't have to read it if you don't want to. the story stands on its own. i just get excited about telling people useless facts, lol.
> 
> enjoy!

“I’m in love with you.”

Eita goes still. The perky cyclops woman hosting the show he’s half-watching smiles brightly when she introduces a new segment. He blinks, tears his eyes away from the TV, and examines his roommate. He was acting weird and jumpy during breakfast, but this confession takes the cake.

Eita shoves another scoop of cereal into his mouth and chews slowly. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Shirabu repeats, his voice squeaky. It sounds involuntarily.

“Mm.” A heavy, resigned feeling fills Eita’s chest, but he does his best not to sigh. “I expected this to happen eventually.”

Shirabu’s eyes dart around the room. His hands flutter, like he can’t decide if he wants to pull out his own hair, start throwing things, or reach over and strangle Eita. He’s never seen Shirabu look this lost before, even after he’s had a particularly confusing vision. Thankfully he gets his agitation under control after taking in a few deep breaths. He stands and glares at Eita. “Move out.”

The spoon almost slips from Eita’s grasp. “What?”

“I said, I want you to move out.” Shirabu frowns, clenching his jaw. He turns and leaves the kitchen without expanding on his ultimatum. Eita hears the front door slam behind him.

Eita puts his bowl down, appetite gone, and stares blankly at the television. This isn’t the first time a roommate of his has fallen in love with him—he’s lost track of how many times that’s happened, actually—but normally he’s the one who decides when to move. No, that’s not what’s bothering him, he decides after a moment. He doesn’t _want_ to move this time.

He dumps out the remainder of his breakfast and hastily washes the dishes to give his hands something to do. That distraction doesn’t last too long, unfortunately, and Eita leaves the dishes to dry and wanders into the main room.

Both he and Shirabu aren’t exactly messy, but their shared living space isn’t immaculate. A few books sit on the armrest of the couch, DVDs are stacked haphazardly near the television, and there’s a hoodie thrown over the back of a chair that was left from when the weather was cooler. He could clean a bit, he guesses. Get ready to move.

Eita frowns at the room for a second, then picks up his keys, slips on his shoes, and leaves the apartment instead.

-

Eita didn’t exactly grow up in Sendai. His parents wandered from place to place, much like how he hasn’t lived in the same apartment for a year since setting out on his own. But he did go to middle school here, and he’s kept in touch with one of his more amusing former classmates. He lives at the only shrine in the city, which is a bit of a hike from Eita’s apartment, but the walk helps calm his mind.

The shrine is beautiful as usual, with its carefully tended gardens and bright red gateway. Sitting on the steps leading of the main entrance is a man who is dressed too nicely for the heat, with the sleeves of his button-up rolled above his elbows. He has his tie tossed over his shoulder to get out of his way while he writes in a small notebook. Eita wonders why he’s even wearing it if it’s going to be a hassle.

The guy looks up before Eita can walk by him. Eita is momentarily struck by how young he looks. From his outfit he assumed the guy was an older business man type, but he looks around Eita’s age. “Excuse me,” the guy says, standing. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“That depends on what the questions are,” Eita says, not bothering to keep the wary edge out of his voice.

The guy doesn’t look phased. “Not personal questions,” he clarifies. “There have been reports of a troublemaker in the area, and I’m trying to track him down.”

Eita almost tells the guy no, but it could be a good way to waste time so he shrugs. “Sure. I live about halfway across the city, though, so I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”

“That’s fine, as long as I can narrow down his range—” He stops himself from giving away his entire game plan. Eita manages to glance at his notebook and notices that he wasn’t writing, he was drawing a crude map of the area. A few spots have large red circles over them. The guy holds out his hand. “My name is Daichi Sawamura. I’m a paranormal detective.”

A detective? As far as Eita can tell he’s a non-magical human, too. This trip to the shrine is starting to look like it’ll be interesting instead of sheer desperation for a distraction. Eita takes Sawamura’s hand and shakes it. “Eita Semi. I’m a sales associate at a clothing store. What’s up?”

Sawamura flips a couple pages in his notebook and clicks his pen. “Have you heard any strange noises at night recently?”

“I haven’t.”

“Not anything like banging on trashcans?” Sawamura glances up at him, then writes something down. “Have you seen any strange people wandering around at night?”

“No.” Eita frowns. “You’re not trying to talk about the vampire, are you?”

Sawamura’s eyebrows knit together. “Who, Oikawa? No, he’s harmless.” He says it with such conviction that Eita wonders if he’s met him before. He’s not sure why the former vampire king would care about some non-magical paranormal detective, though. “You said you work at a shop, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Has anyone paid with faulty currency lately?”

“If that’s happened, it wasn’t on my shift.”

“Right.” Sawamura nods. He scribbles something down. “Well, I’m looking for a tanuki, so if any cash turns into leaves—”

“A _tanuki?_ ” Eita repeats. He suppresses a smile. “You could have just asked if I’ve seen any monks lately.” Sawamura stares at him. Evidentially he doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, though that doesn’t dampen Eita’s amusement. “The answer is no, by the way.”

Sawamura sighs heavily. “I know who he is,” he explains, a little irritated, “and he hasn’t hurt anyone, ever, but he makes a nuisance of himself when he gets bored. He’s mocking us.”

If he already knows the tanuki it wouldn’t be too hard to go ask Shirabu if he can _see_ anything about him, but before Eita says he knows a seer he remembers the incident this morning. He closes his mouth and frowns, mood plummeting. Sawamura flips through his notes and mutters to himself without even noticing Eita’s expression.

His salvation comes over the crest of the steps. Tall, somber, and dressed in the priest robes Eita can’t get used to, Wakatoshi squints through the sun. Eita leans over to Sawamura, eyes trained on Wakatoshi, and stage whispers, “Do tanuki do shinto priests, too?”

“No,” Sawamura and Wakatoshi say at the same time. They glance at each other.

“Don’t give him any ideas, at least,” Sawamura grumbles. Then, to Wakatoshi, “Why are you wearing that? You’re going to attract too much attention. Again.”

“Good morning, Daichi,” Wakatoshi greets, politely ignoring Sawamura’s jab, then fixes his eyes on Eita as though it’s normal for him to come by. “Eita. Hello. I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We just met.” Eita corrects.

Sawamura taps his pen on his notes. “Listen, Wakatoshi, I don’t think we should bother Moniwa with this just yet. If we don’t find him by tonight, though...”

Wakatoshi nods. He stops a step above them, which makes him look as tall as a tree. “You should probably step back a bit,” he tells Sawamura, who sighs in resignation.

“What is it _this_ time? Spill some demon-attracting water here? Launch a low-level spirit in the sky last week and it’s going to land in this spot?”

“...No.” Wakatoshi’s eyebrows knit slightly like they used to when he was confused. Good to see some things haven’t changed since they were kids. Eita used to be the taller one and he’s still not over it. “If you stand near Eita for too long, you might fall in love with him.”

Eita makes a strangled noise. Thankfully Sawamura directs his unimpressed look at Wakatoshi. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Calmly, Wakatoshi explains, “Eita has some unfortunate magic. Anyone who is near him for too long will develop feelings for him. He can’t control it.”

Sawamura eyes Eita warily and takes a step back. It may have been subconscious, but Eita notices and it makes his irritation spike. “Have you _ever_ seen anyone fall in love ten minutes after meeting, Wakatoshi?” He asks, straining to keep his voice even. “Besides,” he says to Sawamura, “it only works on people who swing my way.”

Sawamura lifts his chin and stares Eita dead in the eye. _Oh,_ Eita thinks.

There are a few other signs he noticed, of course. This is the first time Eita has seen Sawamura, indicating that he met Wakatoshi only recently, but they’re already on first name basis. They’re working together to find this tanuki, and he can easily assume they’ve worked together before. Furthermore, not many people would dare tease Wakatoshi the way Sawamura did. Eita puts his hands in his pockets casually enough and adds, “It also doesn’t work on people who are already in love.”

“Oh,” Sawamura says, his voice sounding a little small. Eita doesn’t miss the split-second glance he gives Wakatoshi, who is oblivious as ever.

Eita grins, smug. “So, about this tanuki,” he says, getting both of their attention. “How are you planning on catching it?”

“He normally leaves a really obvious trail,” Wakatoshi says. “We just need to follow it until we find him.”

“Okay. And then?”

Sawamura gives Wakatoshi a look like he can’t believe he just revealed how clueless they are. “We’ll handle it.”

“Does this Moniwa guy normally deal with the tanuki?” Eita guesses.

Sawamura sighs heavily and rubs his temple. “We can handle it.”

“Moniwa is spending the week with his family,” Wakatoshi explains. “We thought it best not to bother him. He gets stressed easily.”

“Makes sense. Where are you gonna look first?”

Eita is pushing his luck, he knows, especially when Sawamura shoots Wakatoshi a look that goes right over his head. “We’ll go to the last place he was seen. We’ll take care of it.”

“Not to where he lives?”

“He doesn’t—” Sawamura frowns and flips through his notes. “Does he even _have_ a place to live around here?”

“He does,” Wakatoshi says, which startles Sawamura. “I’ve met the young woman he lives with before. She’s very kind. Her name is Mai Nametsu.”

Sawamura raises his notebook like he’s about to smack Wakatoshi with it, but hits his own forehead instead. “Why didn’t you say anything _earlier?_ ”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Well!” Eita steps between the two, heading off a possible argument. “It looks like you two could use some help. What do you say about an extra pair of eyes tagging along?”

Wakatoshi shrugs. “If you’re not doing anything, I don’t see why not.”

But Eita is looking at Sawamura. If he says no, Eita doesn’t want to bother debating it with him. He has a feeling he’d lose. Sawamura considers for a moment, pursing his lips, and then he says, “Sure. Sounds good.”

Eita takes a few steps down, then turns to look at Wakatoshi and Sawamura. “Let’s go hunt down a tanuki.”

-

Eita’s brilliant idea of visiting the tanuki’s home turned out to be both useless and perfect. Useless because he hadn’t been there for a couple days. Perfect because as soon as his girlfriend saw Wakatoshi her expression darkened and she started saying, “If he comes back here I’ll kick his ass, I swear.” Eita can’t help but believe she would.

She gave them a list of places he might be hiding and the three of them set out to investigate, but their progress is slow. Wakatoshi is stopped every twenty minutes by someone who has a question or a request, and each time Sawamura mutters about how he knew this would happen. It might be faster if Eita and Sawamura went along without him, but neither of them are too keen on spending time alone together. Instead they hang back, watch Wakatoshi chat with old ladies, and attempt awkward small talk.

Eventually Eita gets tired of that routine, and cuts to a more interesting question: “When did you move to Sendai?”

“That obvious, huh?” Sawamura asks, mostly to himself. He stares at Wakatoshi, though his eyes are slightly unfocused. “About two years ago. How do you know Wakatoshi?”

A question for a question. Fair enough. Eita settles back, kicking his feet up onto the chair across from him. They claimed an empty outdoor cafe table to sit at while Wakatoshi is busy. Not many people want to brave the heat, so it’s quiet. “We went to middle school together.”

“Just middle school?”

“Yeah. My parents moved us around a lot. We stayed here long enough for me to finish middle school.”

“Ah.” They fall into a more comfortable silence than when they kept trying to chat about the weather. After a few minutes, Sawamura asks, “Why did you decide to come back?”

Eita hums, considering the question. There’s a few reasons he decided to move to Sendai, really. The first was he was already familiar with the town and knew people. Second, he did _not_ want to move back in with his parents when he graduated university and was in a scramble against time to find a place to live. But his final reason is more compelling, so it’s the one he decides to tell Sawamura.

“Because,” he explains, “There’s no place in Japan with a larger population of magical people.”

Sawamura nods like he’s not surprised by his answer. “Living with people like you. It makes sense.”

“I’m not sure there’s anyone living here who’s like _me_ , but yeah. Basically. And no, you don’t get to ask what I am.” Eita spreads his hands out. “It’s my turn to ask questions. I only got one and you got three, that’s not close to being fair.”

Sawamura snorts and shakes his head. “Alright, have it your way. What’s your question?”

“What made you decide to be a paranormal detective?”

“That’s... huh.” Sawamura looks thrown off by the question. Twenty feet away the old woman Wakatoshi is talking to laughs loudly. “I kind of fell into it, I guess. I was always good at solving things, and after I moved here and started helping people out, and, well.” He starts to twirl his pen in his hand. “I think people who grew up in magical towns always expect problems to have magical roots. But sometimes the real answer is the simplest.”

Eita takes a second to digest his answer. “When you hear hoofbeats, and all that.”

Sawamura nods, but then he looks at Eita with a grave expression. “Also, ghosts love talking to me.”

That answer is so unexpected and his face is so funny that Eita can’t help but laugh. The sound catches Wakatoshi’s attention. He glances over at them, then bows to the old woman and takes his leave.

“Are we ready?” he asks when he approaches the table, as if he were waiting on them instead of the other way around.

“It’s still bugging me,” Sawamura says, standing up. “I know there’s one more place our perp hangs around a lot. But I’m pretty sure it’s not on the list Nametsu gave us.”

“She could have forgotten,” Eita suggests.

“Or she’s hiding him.”

Eita shrugs. It seems more likely that the tanuki’s girlfriend would hold back information in order to find him herself instead of protect him. “You’re the professional,” he says. He regrets saying it immediately—that was a Shirabu thing to say, and Eita isn’t too happy to realize he’s picked up parts of Shirabu’s bad personality.

Sawamura gives him a look, as if he knows Eita is half-mocking him. Wakatoshi taps Sawamura’s notebook. “Where to next?”

-

The second half of their search is as dull as the first, but without the awkward tension with Sawamura, Eita starts to get antsy. He can’t help but think about Shirabu and what happened that morning. Even Wakatoshi notices how distracted he is, stopping to ask if he’s okay more than once. It doesn’t help that they’re having even less luck finding information about the tanuki and now Sawamura and Wakatoshi are grasping at straws for more places to look without needing to call Moniwa.

The sun is beginning to sink in the sky as the afternoon slips away. Eita wonders if Shirabu has spent all day away from the apartment, or if he came back to find Eita gone. If he did, did he want to talk? He should go back. Or—it would probably make things worse if he did. If Shirabu really wanted to talk he would have called him, and Eita’s phone has been silent all day.

He looks down, glancing at an ad-covered storefront, and remembers a poster he saw a while ago, advertising a potion brewing business that just opened up. But he can’t recall any specifics about it, so he casually asks, “What do you guys know about the witch that moved here recently?”

“You mean Suga?” Sawamura asks. “I know him. What do you need?”

Eita shouldn’t be surprised that a paranormal investigator knows a witch. For all he knows, this Suga helps Sawamura with seances or whatever. “Can he break curses?”

“I’m fairly certain the other witch, Shimizu, is the one who deals in curses,” Wakatoshi interjects.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure she _breaks_ them,” Sawamura says, shrugging. “It’s probably worth asking Suga first. He’ll do all he can to help. What’s this about a curse you need breaking?”

Eita recognizes the look on Sawamura’s face as someone who sees an opportunity, so he holds up his hands. “Not anything you can help me with, detective. Don’t worry about it.”

“Suit yourself.” Sawamura flips to a new page in his notebook, scribbles something on it, then tears it out and hands it to Eita. “This is his address. He lives in the older part of town. He should still be open, if you want to see him now.”

“Is that a hint, Sawamura?” Eita dryly asks, taking the paper.

“Yes,” Sawamura replies with matching sarcasm, “you asked your last question, so it’s time to part ways.”

It takes him a few seconds to remember the question-for-a-question game they played a couple hours ago. He smiles faintly. “Very clever. I guess that means you win this round.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Eita.” Wakatoshi says.

“It was,” Eita agrees, a little surprised with himself. He’s hardly been over to see Wakatoshi at the shrine since moving back to Sendai, and when he thinks about it he’s not sure why. He did have a good time today, even if they ran all over the city on a hot day with nothing to show for it.

“If you hear of a guy named Futakuchi, give us a call.” Sawamura instructs. Eita can honestly say that name isn’t familiar to him, but he promises to pass on any information he may hear about a tanuki. He gives Wakatoshi a friendly pat on the arm, nods to Sawamura, then turns to go on his own adventure to the old side of town.

The castle, set atop a hill and surrounded by woods, is visible from everywhere in Sendai, but it’s unmissable and much closer in the older section. Those who founded the city two hundred years ago thought being so close to known vampire king Oikawa would protect them from attacks by humans, according to legend, and Eita guesses they were right since the town is still standing.

He doesn’t normally come to this part of town so he has to stop and ask for directions once, only to be surprised at being directed to a modern apartment building. He clarifies with another stranger on the street to learn that, yes, this is the place where the witch Sugawara lives.

Even though Sawamura _did_ explicitly give him an apartment number, for whatever reason Eita didn’t expect the witch to operate his business out of his own home. It feels a little surreal when he climbs the stairs and knocks on the apartment door. It’s answered almost immediately by a guy Eita’s age, with bright brown eyes and a wide smile, and for a second he’s convinced he knocked on the wrong door. But—that silver hair seems distinctly witchy, and there’s a smell coming from the apartment that is _definitely_ not dinner cooking.

“Hello!” the guy says. “I’m Koushi Sugawara, potion brewer. What can I help you with?”

“Sawamura suggest I come here,” Eita starts with. “He said you could help me with a problem.”

“Daichi did? It would kill him to give me a head’s up, wouldn’t it?” Sugawara shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Come on in, I’ll see what I can do.”

This is how slasher flicks start, part of Eita’s brain says. He ignores it completely and follows his host inside, taking off his shoes and placing them politely off to the side. The inside of Sugawara’s apartment is a strange mesh of a typical 20-something’s apartment and weird magical objects—the windows have strange looking plants cluttered around them, the many shelves are crammed full of eclectic bottles filled with a variety of creepy things, and there’s even a small witch’s cauldron set on a hot plate as the centerpiece.

Eita’s lived in weirder places. Besides, it looks like Sugawara puts effort into cleaning.

Sugawara gestures to a small table he must have set up to greet customers at. There’s a small stack of what looks like take away menus on one side, but they list potions instead of food. “Have a seat—ah, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Semi,” Eita says. “It’s Eita Semi.” He can’t believe he forgot to introduce himself.

Sugawara sits after Eita does, still smiling. “So! What can I help you with?”

Faced with the friendly witch, Eita begins to feel foolish. His leg starts to bounce. “How do I put this...” he tails off, glancing off to the side. His eyes fall on a bottle of what looks like _eyeballs_ , thankfully too small to be human, and immediately decides he’s going to stare at Sugawara the entire time instead. He takes a breath and says, “Is there a way to stop people from falling in love with me?”

The smile slips from Sugawara’s face as he blinks in surprise. “Sorry, to _stop_ people falling in love with you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Normally people ask for the opposite.”

Eita frowns. “Can you do that?”

“It’s evil magic,” Sugawara says in a grave tone. “I’ll never work for anyone who asks me for it. Why do you want people to not fall in love with you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Eita weighs his options, then decides to tell Sugawara something he hardly ever lets anyone know. “I’m a tennin,” he says, carefully watching Sugawara’s reaction. “It comes with the territory.”

If possible, Sugawara looks even more surprised. “It’s actually magic?”

“Why else would there be so many stories about people falling in love with a tennin at first sight?” Eita clicks his teeth. “It’s ridiculous. People have been falling in love with me left and right since I hit puberty. There are rules, though,” he adds hastily when he notices Sugawara looks close to panic. “About who is attracted to us. They have to be around my age, interested in guys, and not in love already.”

Sugawara’s cheeks go slightly pink at the last one. “I think we’re fine, then.” Eita nods and sighs, crossing his arms. “I can imagine that can be a big problem, though,” Sugawara says, trying to nudge him into talking again.

“My parents never stayed in one place for too long,” he says, “I never had the chance to get to know people. The people I’ve known the longest I see the least, usually.” Or he’s known since before his magic completely kicked in, he adds silently, thinking of Wakatoshi. “I’m used to not having a lot of friends and moving around a lot.”

“I see.” Sugawara looks thoughtful as he studies Eita’s face. “If it’s been like this for a while, why try to change it now?”

Eita’s arms tighten over his chest. “This morning,” he says, tense, “I found out it ruined a friendship that’s... important to me.”

He’s not sure which was harder to say: that his relationship with Shirabu is important to him, or that he’s already calling it ruined.

“Can you tell me about it?” Sugawara requests. “If you don’t mind.”

“He’s my roommate. I moved in almost a year ago, which is the longest I’ve been in one place for a while.” Wow, that sounds depressing. He doesn’t want Sugawara to comment on it so he keeps talking. “We get along. Uh, mostly. We argued over dumb shit a lot, but it was never serious.” Eita would say that their half-serious arguments were a way they bonded, but it sounds stupid to say out loud. “I usually keep to myself when I have roommates, but it was easy talking to him.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Eita says, starting to feel a little irritated. “He’s just different from everyone I’ve roomed with before.”

Sugawara gets a weird look on his face, like he’s already thinking ten steps ahead. “So, let me get this straight. This has happened before? Roommates falling in love with you?”

“Yeah.”

“And every time it’s happened you’ve moved out?”

“Yes...”

“But this time you don’t want to. Because it’s _different_.”

Eita stares at the witch. “What are you getting at, Sugawara?”

“Just call me Suga,” he says, putting his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “What I’m trying to say is, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing?”

“Why wouldn’t it be—oh. _Oh_. You think I have feelings for him?” Suga nods sheepishly. Eita sucks in a breath. “But I—I don’t—”

“I’m not saying it’s a sure thing,” Suga says. “Just a possibility. I think you should think about this for a while, before doing anything drastic, like moving out. Or trying to rid yourself of your magic. I don’t recommend that one, by the way.”

Eita leans back in his seat and looks off to the side, past the creepy eyeballs and weird plants, out the window at a sky that’s still bright blue in the late summer afternoon. He asks himself, _is_ he in love with Shirabu?

He doesn’t know. But his heart clenches when he thinks about it. He thinks about how much he enjoys spending time with Shirabu, about all the times he caught Shirabu smiling to himself and thinking it was cute, or the mornings he’d get an annoyed text at work because he didn’t stop to wake him up before leaving and all the pathetic excuses he’d come up with just to see how frustrated he could make Shirabu’s replies. He thinks, well, talking to him does make him happy. It’s entirely possible.

He’s not sure he likes that, though.

“But,” he says, and Suga’s attention refocuses on him. “Wouldn’t that be like taking advantage of—the situation?”

Suga frowns. “Do people normally act differently after they’ve been affected by your magic?”

“I don’t think so.” Eita tries to recall all the people that have fallen for him in the past. He generally doesn’t stick around for long after it happens. “Not more than a person usually would, I’d say.”

“It might be something you’d need to discuss with your roommate.” Suga says, picking up on Eita’s uncertainty.

“I guess...” Eita slides down in his seat a little and frowns. “I came here for a potion or something, but I feel like I’ve just had a therapy session.”

Suga grins. “There’s more than one kind of magic. But if you do need anything—”

The door to Suga’s apartment flings open, startling both of them. The guy that steps inside is tall with brown hair that flips up at the end, and, oddly, is wearing a sweatshirt despite the heat. He looks strangely familiar, but Eita can’t place him. “Sugaaaaaa,” he calls, a cheerful smile on his face. “I know I’m a liiiittle early today, but—” He looks at Eita, and his expression changes to one of pure disgust. “Who is that? Nevermind, I don’t care, just get rid of him.”

“That’s _rude_ ,” Eita says before he can stop himself. He’s not sure who’s more surprised: Suga, who stares at him with his jaw dropped before bursting into laughter, or the new guy, who is so shocked he backs into a shelf.

“Suga!” he says, looking at him in desperation.

“Semi’s right, Tooru, that was rude.”

“Excuse me!”

Eita’s positive he’s seen this guy before, but it’s not until he opens his mouth to complain some more and Eita notices his fangs that he puts it together. Suga’s new guest is none other than Oikawa, the infamous vampire that lives in the castle up on the hill. He looks exactly like he did the day Eita managed to glance him when he was a kid, minus the suit and cape, and Eita _scolded him_.

That solves his Shirabu problem, at least. He won’t live long enough to do anything about it.

Suga doesn’t look perturbed. “It’s not my fault you came here before business hours end, _again_.” He shakes his head. “You do it to yourself, Tooru. You really should be sleeping.”

“I don’t need to sleep!” Oikawa’s voice quickly devolves into a whine. “You just need to tell him to leave, then it’s fine. You can close.”

Suga looks at Eita with a glint in his eye and says, “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Suga, why!”

Oikawa clutches the back of an empty chair and stares at Suga with the most impressive pout Eita’s ever seen. He remembers Sawamura calling Oikawa harmless earlier. He’s starting to think he believes him.

“I’d love to stay for dinner,” he replies.

Oikawa lets out a whine and sinks to the floor. Suga reaches over and pats his head reassuringly. Eita thinks about how much he loves third wheeling couples.

-

“Thanks again for dinner,” Eita says, drying the last dish on the rack. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”

Suga looks surprised. “You don’t have to rush out of here. Just ignore Tooru’s dramatics, he’s fine.”

Eita shakes his head. “Nah. Staying here is just avoidance.”

Suga smiles warmly. “In that case, thank you for helping with the dishes.”

Eita waves him off. In the main room, Oikawa perks up from his nest on the couch. “You’re leaving?” He looks straight at Suga. Eita’s first instinct is to call Oikawa’s expression hungry, but that isn’t accurate. He looks more excited than anything, like a puppy impatiently waiting for a walk.

Unfortunately for Oikawa, Suga is polite and walks Eita to the door. He pauses in the hall and says, “You’re welcome to come back whenever. My door’s always open.”

Eita opens his mouth to thanks Suga once more, but he’s interrupted by loud voices coming from an apartment down the hall. It opens up, light spilling into the hallway, and Shirabu walks out with a scowl on his face. “Would you shut the hell up already?” he snaps at someone in the apartment.

Shirabu’s oldest friend, Yahaba, leans out of the door and grins. “Nope, never! You deserve it after you— _ack!_ ”

Yahaba is roughly pulled back into the apartment by the back of his shirt by a shorter guy with neat black hair. He looks exhausted. “Stay,” he says sharply to Yahaba, as if he were talking to a dog. “Don’t listen to him, Shirabu,” he says, turning his head to face Shirabu, but he’s not paying any attention. Shirabu’s spotted Eita and stares at him, eyes wide. The guy surveys the hall, looking at Eita and Suga with an eyebrow raised.

“Hi, Ennoshita,” Suga greets, waving. Eita recognizes the name from the days Yahaba would lounge around his and Shirabu’s apartment and complain. Ennoshita is Yahaba’s boyfriend. Yahaba used to insist Ennoshita is just a guy he’s seeing and happens to live with, even though neither Eita nor Shirabu ever believed him. He gave that up eventually.

“Suga,” Ennoshita nods in his direction. He slaps Shirabu on the back just hard enough to interrupt his horrified staring. “Good luck.”

Yahaba appears over Ennoshita’s shoulder and tries to lean out. “Wait, isn’t that Kenjiro’s roomma—” Ennoshita shoves him backwards and closes the door, leaving the hall strangely quiet.

Eita takes a step to Shirabu before remembering Suga is still standing next to him. “I’ll see you later,” he says hastily, but Suga has a knowing smile on and doesn’t look like he minds one bit.

Suga disappears back into his apartment before Eita crosses the hall and stands in front of Shirabu. In contrast to his confused staring from earlier, Shirabu can’t seem to look at Eita head on, eventually settling on staring down the hall at the stairs.

“Let’s walk home together,” Eita suggests.

Shirabu swallows, then nods. “Sure. Okay.”

Normally a long silence between them wouldn’t bother Eita, but for most of the walk home the only time Shirabu speaks is when he has to tell Eita not to turn down the wrong road. Eita doesn’t like how he can’t think of much to say, either—at least not things he wants to say when someone could overhear them. He wracks his brain and finally settles on, “Did you know Oikawa is dating that witch, Suga?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Eita says, startled. “Oh, right, that makes sense.”

“No, I mean, I didn’t _see_ it,” Shirabu corrects. “Shigeru works for Oikawa. Oikawa didn’t tell him, but there’s this clan of cats that live in his castle, and they tease him about it all the time.”

“...Clan of cats? In the castle?”

“It’s a long story.” Shirabu looks less tense, like he’s no longer waiting to bolt at a moment’s notice. Eita watches his face move as he speaks. “They’re werecats, you know. All different kinds. Apparently they’d been homeless for a while and Oikawa said they could use his spare rooms instead of—what the hell are you looking at?”

Eita blinks. Shirabu caught him staring. “Can you blame me?” he asks, feeling bold. “You’re gorgeous.” Shirabu’s features are all delicate, from his frowning lips, thin nose, to his narrowed eyes. There’s a roundness to his face that makes him look younger than he is despite his perpetual scowl.

Shirabu gapes at him, his face flushing. “You—” he starts, “You just—don’t say something so stupid!”

“I disagree,” Eita says. “I don’t think it was stupid at all.”

Shirabu makes a frustrated whine in the back of his throat. He hunches his shoulders and hides his face. “You complete jackass,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

Shirabu straightens his back and marches away, his cheeks still pink. “Shut up, we’re going home.”

Despite Shirabu’s embarrassment, Eita doesn’t feel worried or distracted like he did earlier in the day. Well, maybe he’s distracted, but it’s different from when he was stressed. He keeps an eye on Shirabu regardless, taking care to not outright stare like earlier. He catches Shirabu stealing glances at him, too.

It’s dark by the time they get back to their apartment. Eita lets them in and flicks on the lights. Shirabu gets his shoes off first but instead of fleeing to his bedroom, he stands in the middle of the room and tries to look like he’s not nervous.

“Semi,” he says.

“Yes?”

Shirabu takes a breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he looks like his usual collected self. “I overreacted this morning. You don’t have to move out.”

“Hm, that’s good.” Eita makes note of it, putting that information away for later. He has something else on his mind. He steps closer to Shirabu. “I have a question.”

Shirabu frowns. “What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Shirabu balks. “I-I—” he stammers, “You want to—” He closes his eyes tightly for a second time, shaking his head vigorously as if he’s shaking off his nerves. “Okay,” he says, opening his eyes and looking at Eita with determination. “Yes. You can.”

Eita is in no rush. He takes Shirabu’s face gently in his hands and just looks at him. Shirabu _is_ gorgeous, even when he has a sour expression on his face. He almost wishes he’d noticed sooner.

The more time passes while Eita studies him, the more Shirabu’s eyes narrow. “Well?” he finally says. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

Eita can’t help but chuckle at Shirabu’s impatience. He doesn’t tease him any longer though, lowering his face and pressing their lips together gently. Shirabu roughly pulls Eita closer, surprising him. He expected Shirabu to be hesitant, but there’s no denying he’s trying to make the kiss aggressive. Eita doesn’t want that. He feels relaxed and lazy and thinks their first kiss should reflect that. He keeps it slow, and soon enough Shirabu stops trying to dig marks on Eita’s skin with his fingernails. He still feels tense under the surface, but Eita isn’t worried. He’ll kiss it out of him.

The kiss ends naturally, calmly. Eita goes to rest his forehead on Shirabu’s, relaxed and ready to talk, like Suga suggested, only to be shoved away. Shirabu glares. Eita’s never seen him look this pissed off before. “I changed my mind,” he says, “I want you out _immediately_.”

Eita blinks stupidly. Shirabu’s jaw sets. He turns and stomps down to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Eita stares blankly at their things, scattered around the room, and slowly lifts his hand to his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Shigeru drapes his head on the armrest of the couch. He has horrifyingly huge bags under his eyes and his voice cracks with sleep when he says, “You fucked up.”

Kenjiro curls his legs up to his chest and doesn’t reply.

“You really fucked up.” Shigeru says, showing off his vast vocabulary. “God, Kenjiro. That was bad.”

Normally Kenjiro would snap at him because no one gets under his skin like Shigeru, but all he does is frown at the floor.

A timer goes off in the kitchen, which draws Ennoshita out of their bedroom, loosely throwing a tie under his collar to knot later. He looks at Shigeru and frowns. “You look like shit. Go get some sleep.”

“I will when you leave!” Shigeru insists. Ennoshita shakes his head and disappears into the kitchen. Kenjiro is positive this exchange happens near daily. “Nag,” Shigeru says in the vague direction of the kitchen, even though Ennoshita out of earshot.

Kenjiro draws patterns on the fabric of his chair. Ennoshita and Shigeru have the weirdest mismash of seating in their living room, and Kenjiro parked himself in the biggest, softest one. He hoped it would be comfortable. It’s not. Shigeru doesn’t look any cozier on the couch. He’s too tall to fit laying down which makes his legs look comically long. But still, he’s nearly falling asleep while Kenjiro feels deeply uncomfortable.

Ennoshita emerges from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. Kenjiro can smell the coffee. Shigeru sits up eagerly, holding out his hand for one. Ennoshita gives him a look. “Not until after you’ve slept,” he says. He then hands one to Kenjiro.

“Awful,” Shigeru says, betrayed. “You’re awful. Terrible. The worst.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ennoshita nudges Shigeru’s legs off the couch to make room to sit down. Shigeru slumps against his shoulder and sulks. “So,” Ennoshita says, raising his eyebrows at Kenjiro. “What happened?”

Kenjiro sighs. “Panicked. Told him to move out. Again.”

“Even though you decided to tell him not to yesterday?”

Kenjiro nods, shame burning through his body. He’s too embarrassed to tell Ennoshita that he only panicked because Semi kissed him. It was hard enough talking about Semi yesterday in front of Ennoshita and the werecat that hangs around their apartment sometimes. To his credit, Ennoshita didn’t look phased then and doesn’t look phased now. Kenjiro guesses living with Shigeru has adjusted him to overblown dramatics.

“You’ll work it out.” Ennoshita says. He says it with conviction, like _he’s_ the seer. Kenjiro’s not quite as convinced.

He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he turns his attention to the coffee. It’s a milky brown color and loaded with sugar, but when Kenjiro takes a sip it’s still too bitter for him. He never developed a taste for coffee. Caffeine always made his mind race and visions more intense. He doesn’t even drink soda. Still, he’s exhausted from getting about as much sleep last night as Shigeru, who works nights. He sips it slowly until Ennoshita needs to get up and leave for work.

After Ennoshita’s gone, Kenjiro sets the half-empty mug down. Shigeru rolls over on the couch. For a second Kenjiro is convinced Shigeru’s going to drink the rest of his coffee and he’s going to have to lecture him, but Shigeru doesn’t even glance in its direction. He stares at Kenjiro, pensive.

“What?” Kenjiro snaps with impatience.

Shigeru still doesn’t answer right away. He stares at Kenjiro until it starts to get uncomfortable, then he says, “Is this about that vision you had in high school?”

It would be easy to feign ignorance. He had hundreds of vision in high school, most of which Shigeru heard about. But Kenjiro doesn’t. He sighs, tired, and nods.

Shigeru frowns at him some more, then holds out his hand.

Kenjiro glares. “No.”

Shigeru waves his hand around insistently.

“No, Shigeru. We’re not kids anymore.”

Shigeru practically shoves his hand in Kenjiro’s face. Kenjiro holds his glare for a while longer to ensure Shigeru knows just how annoying he’s being, but he gives in and takes Shigeru’s hand. “Your fingers are cold,” Shigeru says, shifting his grip to warm them.

Kenjiro isn’t having trouble telling past from present from future and Shigeru doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him, but holding his hand still makes the weight on Kenjiro’s shoulders slowly melt away. “Don’t fall asleep,” he orders, not wanting to let go just yet.

“I won’t,” Shigeru grumbles. He looks at Kenjiro, who pointedly stares at his abandoned mug, watching the steam slowly disappear as it cools.

-

The sun feels stupidly bright when Kenjiro walks outside. He stands at the entrance of the Tanaka’s apartment building, blinking and taking up space, until his eyes adjust. He’s not in a hurry to go home. Shigeru said he was welcome to stay in his apartment while he slept, but it didn’t feel right. Naturally, Kenjiro has no idea where to go. He picks a direction and walks, the old castle slowly growing larger in the distance.

He turns down streets he’s never been down before, exploring but not seeing, with his only goal to keep away from his apartment or the shop Semi works at. Hunger starts to gnaw at his stomach, and he stops at the first convenience store he spots for lunch. He picks up the first pre-made meal that doesn’t sound horrible, then snags a tuna riceball because he _knows_ he’ll need it later.

A couple blocks over is a small park that Kenjiro decides to eat his lunch in. The trees are vibrant and the flowers fragrant in the summer heat, which also means no one wants to sit out in the hot sun and Kenjiro has it to himself. He sits down under the biggest tree with a deep sigh. His lunch was jostled on his walk over, and it looks less appetizing.

Grass rustles. Kenjiro stiffens, looking around him. It’s completely irrational to think Semi has found him here when he works halfway across the city and probably hasn’t even had his break yet, but—Kenjiro spots a little calico cat slowly walking in his direction. He recognizes him as the werecat, Kenma, that valiantly tried to nap in Shigeru’s apartment yesterday. “Hello,” Kenjiro says, feeling weird talking to a cat.

“Hello,” the cat replies, sitting next to Kenjiro.

Kenjiro remembers the riceball he bought and pulls it out. “Here,” he says, holding it out to the cat, “this must be for you.”

The cat blinks, then morphs into a human. He takes the riceball before Kenjiro drops it in shock. He’s never seen a were shift before—he kind of imagined it would take longer than half a second. “Thank you.”

“Ah. Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

The former cat unwraps his riceball and bites into it. He doesn’t seem keen on striking up a conversation, so Kenjiro starts picking at his lunch.

“I’m a werecat,” the former cat says, glancing over from the corner of his eyes. “Just so you know. Have you not met weres before?”

“I know, and I have,” Kenjiro says quickly. “I was just surprised by how horrible your roots look.”

Kenma shrugs. “Don’t care.” He devours the rest of the riceball, crumples up the plastic wrap, then says, “Why are you so upset, Kenjiro?”

“I’m _not_ upset,” Kenjiro snaps. He’s very annoyed that this _cat_ would _dare_ call him by his first name, and is equally annoyed the only name he has for him is his first. Kenjiro stares at him, reaching for his clairvoyance for once, and says, “Maybe you should mind your own business, _Kozume_.”

He blinks in amazement. “Kenma,” he corrects.

“No,” Kenjiro insists.

“Where did you hear my surname? Everyone just calls me Kenma.”

Kenjiro shrinks back. “What does it matter?”

Kenma shrugs. He sits still, content to pit his stubbornness against Kenjiro’s.

The silence becomes unbearable, and Kenjiro blurts out, “I’m a seer.”

Kenma looks at him with interest for the first time. “So you looked in the future and found my name?”

“Essentially.” Not at all, but he’s not in the mood to explain how it works.

“That sounds like it sucks.”

That’s the last reaction Kenjiro expected. Most people immediately start asking him to look into their future. Even Shigeru did. “It,” he says, “it does. Not as much as it used to, but. I get headaches. Weird dreams. Never know when I’ll have a vision, so I can’t drive or even ride a bike.”

“Does this affect your problem from yesterday?”

Kenjiro bristles. “ _No_ ,” he snaps. “It doesn’t.”

Kenma silently raises his eyebrows.

Kenjiro withers immediately. “...It does,” he admits. “Kind of. I guess.”

“How so?”

Kenjiro isn’t sure where to start. He plucks a blade of grass from the ground and twirls it between his fingers. Kenma watches him, though Kenjiro doesn’t feel any impatience from him.

After a minute Kenma says, “Would it be easier to talk if I were a cat?”

The weird offer makes Kenjiro snort. “No, that’s okay. It’s just—strange talking about it.” He stretches out his legs, buying himself another few seconds, then he starts with, “When we were second years in high school, Shigeru became obsessed with romance and happily ever afters.”

“That sounds like him,” Kenma says.

“Mm. He asked me to look into his future, to see what kind of person he’d end up with.”

Kenma studies him. “Were you dating at the time?”

Kenjiro figured Kenma was clever, but he didn’t think he was _that_ astute. “On and off,” he admits, reassuring himself Shigeru probably spilled it. “He asked when we were off.”

“And you did? And it wasn’t you.”

“Of course it wasn’t.”

“Okay,” Kenma says, and Kenjiro can tell he’s thinking, calculating. “What does this have to do with now?”

Kenjiro frowns at the ground. When he speaks his chooses his words carefully, slowly. “I looked into my own future afterwards.” He plucks another blade of grass. “I didn’t get much—I never get much when looking for myself. But there was something. Things, belongings, some mine, some his, all mixed together and disgusting and _domestic_.” Kenjiro bites the inside of his cheek while Kenma waits. “Yesterday morning I looked around and I saw my vision. And I...”

“Fucked up?” Kenma volunteers.

Kenjiro looks at him, frowning. “You were at Shigeru’s apartment this morning.”

Kenma shrugs. “I’m there a lot. Doesn’t matter. What are you going to do now?”

“Nothing?”

Kenma fixes him with an unnerving, cat-like stare. “There’s always something you can do.”

For the first time Kenjiro _feels_ something about this werecat, not getting a full vision but seeing glimpses of hardship in his past. There’s something heavier there, something worse that gives the force behind his simple statement, and Kenjiro cuts off his curiosity before he sees it. It’s not any of his business.

“What should I do?” Kenjiro asks, mostly to refocus his mind so he doesn’t slip back into a vision. “I mean I—what if it’s not actually _me_.”

“You’re worried about his magic,” Kenma says, guessing correctly for the second time that day. “But it doesn’t work on people who are already in love, you said.”

“Yeah, but—” Kenjiro clamps his mouth shut tightly and glares. “You can’t _possibly_ be suggesting I’ve been—since high school, with someone I hadn’t even met yet—no, that’s stupid.”

Kenma shrugs indifferently. “Maybe. Does it matter, though?”

“Yes, it matters!” Kenjiro can’t believe this guy. “I’m not going to let something that I saw in high school influence me now!”

“Then do nothing. Let him move out.”

All of Kenjiro’s indignant anger leaves him at once. “But,” he says, but he doesn’t continue.

Kenma looks at him, then slides down so he’s laying on the ground. “It’s too hot. Taking a nap in the sun sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll pass,” Kenjiro mumbles.

“Mm, your loss.”

Kenjiro pulls his knees up to his chest and watches the street. When he glances back over at Kenma, he finds he’s shifted back into a calico and has curled up in the sunniest spot under the tree.

“Just keep coming to Chikara’s every evening and complain,” Kenma says without opening his eyes. “It’s what everyone else does. It helps them, I guess.”

“Who’s everyone else?” Kenjiro asks, hoping it doesn’t include Watari. He hated him intensely in high school for being Shigeru’s other friend, and now feels bad about it whenever he sees him.

“They’re funny,” Kenma says, sounding sleepier by the second. “You’ll like them.”

Kenjiro is pretty certain this means he won’t like them, and he has a feeling Kenma knows that, too. He sits under the tree for another half hour while Kenma sleeps before getting up to wander the city again.

-

It turns out Kenma’s prediction is half right. Kenjiro does go to Ennoshita’s apartment nearly every day, where he meets the other two that round out their group. One of them is a wizard named Akaashi, and Kenjiro finds he doesn’t mind his company. He’s a calm person who is surprisingly more of an interpersonal disaster than Kenjiro. The second person is an asshole who thankfully doesn’t drop by as often.

Ennoshita’s apartment is always unlocked in the afternoons, so Kenjiro just walks on in without knocking. Akaashi looks up when the door opens and raises his hand in greeting. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Kenjiro answers, closing the door behind him and glancing over at Ennoshita’s computer set-up for Kenma. He’s perched on top of the computer tower like he normally is, though he isn’t pretending to nap for once. He stares at Kenjiro expectantly. Feeding him once was a mistake, because now every time he sees Kenjiro he wants more food. Kenjiro pretends he doesn’t give Kenma some melon bread he bought on the way over, and Akaashi pretends he doesn’t see.

Shigeru wanders into the living room next, yawning. Part of his hair is sticking up in the back. Kenjiro can’t believe he didn’t comb his hair after waking up like usual. “You look like shit,” Kenjiro tells him. Shigeru shoves him when he walks by.

Ennoshita leaves the kitchen just as Shigeru tries to walk in, and they barely avoid hitting each other. “Tea?” Shigeru asks, bleary in his half-asleep state.

“There’s none. If you make some, make enough for me, would you?”

Shigeru nods. Ennoshita scoots by him, his hand lingering on Shigeru’s arm a little too long, and Kenjiro looks away because those intimate moments between them have been pissing him off lately.

Kenjiro follows Shigeru into the kitchen. He half-sits on the small table in the kitchen and watches Shigeru rifle through the cabinets. “Your hair is sticking up,” Kenjiro says.

Shigeru pauses his search to frantically flatten his hair. “Did I get it?”

“No. Did you brush your teeth before coming out here?”

Shigeru turns slowly and glares. “I thought you came in here to _help_ me, not badger me.”

Kenjiro shrugs, trying to exude an air of innocence. “I don’t know where anything is. I’m here for moral support. It’s not my fault you overslept.”

Shigeru makes an exasperated noise. He finally finds an unopened box of tea, and slams it on the counter with unnecessary force.

“Don’t squash it,” Kenjiro says.

“Fuck you,” Shigeru replies.

He did his job. Shigeru is wide awake now, if a little pissed. Kenjiro settles back and watches as Shigeru struggles with the plastic covering the box. He rips it off, then reaches for the kettle, and—Kenjiro frowns. Something doesn’t feel right. Shigeru fills the kettle with water, then switches on the flame on the stove.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Kenjiro says, taking a step out to stop Shigeru if necessary.

Shigeru turns, water sloshing in the kettle. “What, am I doing this wrong, too?”

“No,” Kenjiro says. “The kettle has a tail.”

Shigeru looks down and stares at the bushy tail the kettle didn’t have when he picked it up. The tail twitches. Shigeru shouts and drops it.

Before the kettle can hit the ground it shifts into the last person that rounds out Shigeru’s little club, a mischievous tanuki named Futakuchi. He lands on his butt. “Ow,” he says. “Damn, you didn’t have to go and throw me.”

“Kenji!” Shigeru kicks Futakuchi in the side, hard enough to knock him off balance. “Stop turning into furniture, it’s not funny!”

“It’s kind of funny,” Futakuchi says, grinning. He jumps out of the way of Shigeru’s second kick, springing to his feet.

“I wish I hadn’t noticed and put you on the fire,” Shigeru grumbles.

“Aww, you don’t mean that, Shigeru!” Futakuchi drags out the syllables in Shigeru’s name. He’s apparently not entirely happy with how Shigeru’s started using his given name. Kenjiro’s arms tighten over his chest. That’s just how Shigeru is—a bit oblivious, and likes people a bit more than he’d admit.

Shigeru drags his hands down his face. “Get out of the kitchen, Kenji.”

“Why do _I_ have to leave while _he_ gets to stay?” Futakuchi asks, pointing to Kenjiro.

“Because I’m not annoying,” Kenjiro says.

“Oh please, don’t think because kettles don’t have ears I didn’t hear you taking the piss out of Shigeru earlier.”

“I’m—”

“You’re both annoying!” Shigeru snaps. “Shoo! Get out! Out, out, out!”

Shigeru shoves both of them out of the kitchen. There’s no door, but if there was Kenjiro is positive he would slam it behind them. Futakuchi grins at Kenjiro, then pushes his luck and walks straight back into the kitchen. Shigeru yells wordlessly and pushes him out more roughly. Kenjiro sniffs at the commotion before sulking his way into a chair.

Kenma jumps up onto the armrest as soon as Kenjiro sits down. “That was pretty pathetic,” he tells Kenjiro.

“I don’t wanna hear that from _you_.”

“Anyway,” Ennoshita says, giving the two of them a look. “Akaashi, didn’t you mention you were researching something new recently?”

“It’s not all that interesting,” Akaashi says with a shrug. Kenjiro doesn’t need to be a seer to know that’s the biggest load of crap he’s heard all day. He and Kenma exchange glances. “There’s centuries of work done on the effects of the stars on the effectiveness of certain spells, but not much on how local weather can affect it. Thunderstorm-dependant spells notwithstanding.”

“Thunderstorm-dependant spells?” Kenjiro says under his breath. Magic seems entirely too complicated to bother. Kenma gives him a knowing look.

“How are you researching that?” Ennoshita asks, rapt. He’s always been extremely interested in what Akaashi has to say about magic, despite being non-magical himself.

“Not well,” Akaashi admits. “It’s not easy to create controlled experiments, for obvious reasons.”

Ennoshita leans forward. “Do you know Noya? He’s the local weather spirit. I’m sure he’d love to help you.”

“Oh, I met that guy once!” Futakuchi chimes in, finally giving up on bothering Shigeru. He plops down on the couch next to Ennoshita, taking up as much space as possible. “He was kind of staticy. I bet Yahaba would be dumb enough to shake his hand if I told him to.”

Ennoshita elbows him. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Shigeru emerges from the kitchen with a tray of steaming drinks on it. He hands a mug to Akaashi, then to Kenjiro, and sets down a saucer of warm milk on the armrest for Kenma. “Don’t spill it,” he warns.

“Kenjiro will catch it,” Kenma says with confidence.

“What makes you think I’ll do that for you?” Kenjiro shoots back.

Shigeru picks up the last two drinks, sets down the tray, and sits in the last open spot: the small sliver of couch Futakuchi left open. Futakuchi holds out his hands for one of the mugs. Shigeru glares, then passes it over him and to Ennoshita. He settles into his seat with his own mug while Futakuchi stares at him incredulously.

“Why don’t I get one?”

Shigeru blows on his tea, takes a sip, and answers, “Because you suck.”

“ _He_ got one!” Futakuchi says, pointing at Kenjiro. Kenjiro chooses that exact moment to drink his tea—herbal and unsweetened, just the way he likes it. He raises his eyebrows at Futakuchi to brag.

“He saved your ass from the fire. Literally. So shut up, Kenji. Drink some of that sake you always have.”

“I didn’t bring any this time.” Futakuchi sighs. “Whatever. I’ll just die of dehydration. Damn, I gotta pee.”

Futakuchi gets up and walks out of the room. Kenjiro stares, horrified. He can’t remember any of the water Shigeru put into the fake kettle splashing on the floor with Futakuchi, which means it’s—

“That’s disgusting,” Shigeru says in a small voice. He looks just as grossed out as Kenjiro feels. The last thing Kenjiro ever wanted to learn was where water goes when accidentally put inside a shapeshifter disguised as an object.

Ennoshita, who expected his boyfriend to scoot over to his side as soon as Futakuchi left, looks between Shigeru and Kenjiro. “What happened?” Shigeru shakes his head slowly while Kenjiro pretends to be preoccupied with his drink. Ennoshita gives up, moves over to sit next to Shigeru, then turns to Akaashi to continue their previous conversation.

-

Later that evening Kenjiro arrives at his apartment feeling almost cheery. He enjoys spending time with Shigeru's friends, despite his best efforts to hate them. He's even somewhat fond of Futakuchi's shitty antics. He wonders why he never bothered to join them before as he unlocks his apartment.

Semi jumps at the sound of the door. "Oh," he says upon seeing Kenjiro. "Welcome back."

That's the only reaction Semi gives him before hunching over the shelves and taking out books and DVDs. No _you scared the shit out of me_ lecture, no questioning where he's been, no teasing about his sudden social life. Kenjiro's good mood evaporates.

Semi has a box next to him, which Kenjiro can see is half full of some junk that's accumulated in the living room. The room itself looks empty. All the furniture is where it belongs, sure, but the mess that's plagued them for months has not only been cleaned up, but removed. Kenjiro hates clutter, but the empty spaces Semi leaves behind cuts him deeply.

Kenjiro closes the door behind him. His mind races, but the only thing he manages to say is, "Um."

Semi glances up at him for a brief second. "Don't worry," he says, voice even and detached. "I'll be out of your way soon."

"You have a new place lined up already?" Kenjiro asks, heart pounding.

Semi just shrugs.

The atmosphere is heavy after a week of avoiding each other. Semi doesn't seem keen on continuing a conversation, but Kenjiro doesn't want to leave him alone and have their friendship destroyed by a misunderstanding—so he begins to pace. He manages four minutes of pacing before Semi looks up at him curiously.

Encouraged, Kenjiro takes a breath and blurts out the first thing on his mind, "I don't want you to leave."

Semi raises his eyebrows. "Okay?" he says, evidently not impressed with Kenjiro's honesty. He must still be sore from the last time Kenjiro tried to rescind his order for him to move out. But he doesn't turn around and resume packing, so Kenjiro continues.

"It's not right," he says. "I know it's not. You leaving. I—I like spending time with you." His voice dips with the admission. Semi's eyes are wide as he stares at Kenjiro. "And I know you like being around me, too. If you move out, _neither_ of us will be happy."

Semi is silent. Kenjiro is determined to look him in the eye until he says something, but his resolve crumbles away by the second. Before he looks away in embarrassment, Semi stands up. "Shirabu," he starts, but he cuts himself off abruptly and studies Kenjiro's face a moment longer. He says, "Can I answer you now?"

"Answer?" Kenjiro echos. "Answer what?"

"Your confession."

"My—oh." Kenjiro can no longer look at Semi. He fidgets with his hands. That morning was so mortifying he'd nearly convinced himself he forgot about it. "Yes—yes, you can."

Semi smiles, and Kenjiro's chest tightens. It's been too long since he's seen him smile, but he's never seen Semi smile with such gentle fondness. He steps toward Kenjiro and brushes his fingers down Kenjiro's arm until he reaches Kenjiro's hand. "I love you too," he says.

Kenjiro swears his heart must be in his throat. He squeezes Semi's hand tightly. His other hand is balled into a fist so tight he’s digging holes in his palms with his fingernails. "Then kiss me," he demands. Semi moves forward. Kenjiro stops him by holding up a finger. "And _don't_ make it a pathetic one like last time."

Semi's brows furrow. "Pathetic?" he asks, sounding offended.

"It sucked."

Semi frowns. “I can’t believe you think I’m a bad kisser.” For a moment Kenjiro's afraid he's gone too far, but Semi says, "Well, I can't leave you unsatisfied," and kisses him. It feels nothing like the curious, explorative kiss from a week ago. Semi pulls Kenjiro close, their bodies are flush, and runs his fingers through Kenjiro’s hair. It's not aggressive, but it's firm—like Semi is reiterating that his feelings are mutual and he's not letting that go. When they pull apart Semi asks, "Better?"

Kenjiro takes a second to unscramble his brain. "It's a start," he says.

Semi grins. He starts to lean in, but stops himself at the last possible second. "Before we get too far into this," he says, "we should—talk. About you and me."

"We should," Kenjiro agrees. Semi takes his hand again, and together they walk to the little kitchen table.

-

The blistering heat suddenly drops off by a few degrees. Kenjiro looks up in surprise at the cloud that's wandered over the sun. It drifts away seconds later, leaving him to continue the walk just as hot and blinking sun spots out of his eyes. "You're buying me ice cream after this," he says.

Semi looks at him with his jaw dropped. "This was your idea! Why do I have to pay?"

"Because you will."

"That's a bullshit reason and you know it."

"Because you're the one with the job."

"Don’t act like you don't have money."

Kenjiro shrugs. "Fine. Because you love me."

Semi doesn't have a response for this. He sighs. "I'm never going anywhere outside with you ever again."

"Yes, you will."

Semi grumbles. The walk is slightly less unbearable with something to look forward to at the end. Semi leads him down a couple more streets before the shrine becomes clear. Standing atop the clean steps are a pair of priests, one of which is significantly taller than the other.

“Wakatoshi,” Semi calls, waving. The taller priest straightens up and looks down at him. Semi starts climbing up to him. After a few seconds and a few choice words about heat and physical exertion, Kenjiro follows.

“Good afternoon, Eita,” the taller priest says. “It’s nice to see you again, but we’re busy.”

“Yeah, I know. We just need one minute.” Semi puts his hand on Kenjiro’s back and guides him forward. “Wakatoshi, this is my roommate, Shirabu. Shirabu, Ushijima.” Semi looks at the shorter priest. “And you’re Moniwa?” Moniwa nods.

Kenjiro bows his head at Semi’s prodding. “Hello,” he says.

“Where’s Sawamura?” Semi asks.

“He’ll be around,” Ushijima says. It seems like a vague non-answer to Kenjiro, but Semi accepts it. Ushijima turns his attention to Kenjiro. “It’s nice to meet you, Shirabu.” Kenjiro can read the slight confusion on his face, but he’s polite to a fault. No wonder Semi likes Ushijima so much.

Before the two priests can make an excuse and leave, Kenjiro pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and passes it to Moniwa. Moniwa unfolds it and frowns. “An address?”

“It’s where Futakuchi has been hiding,” Kenjiro says.

Moniwa’s face lights up. “Really? You found him? He’s okay? He hasn’t been getting into any more trouble, has he?”

Kenjiro isn’t sure what kind of trouble Futakuchi got into to have a Shinto priest looking for him, but he can’t help but think about how many times Shigeru has threatened to kick him out after he did something stupid, and says, “Of course he has.”

Moniwa deflates. “Of course he has,” he moans.

Ushijima looks at Semi and asks, “Are you interested in coming with us again?”

“No thanks,” Semi says. He puts his arms around Kenjiro’s shoulders. “I’ve got a date to get to.”

“Have fun,” Ushijima says, his attention drifting to Moniwa, who is debating what part of town the Tanaka apartment complex is in.

Kenjiro is quiet when they walk away from the shrine. The weight of Semi’s arm is comfortable on his shoulders. “What’s up?” Semi asks. “Do you regret ratting out your friend?”

“Hell no,” Kenjiro says. “I’m just thinking of the most expensive sundae I can order.”

Semi rolls his eyes. He pulls Kenjiro closer and plants a light kiss on his temple. “That’s fine,” he says. “I love you, after all.”

It’s disgustingly hot outside and there are people on the street who may have seen that kiss, but Kenjiro smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! :D

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. [sendai](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sendai) is a real city, where the miyagi tournaments take place. in fairytale au aoba castle is oikawa's castle instead of date masamune's. what semi says about magical people founding sendai because of oikawa's presence is true, though he never wanted anything to do with the city. 
> 
> 2\. [tanuki](http://www.tofugu.com/2015/01/30/tanuki-the-magical-canine-with-gigantic-magic-tanuki-balls/) are hilarious creatures and i've had this tab open since i started writing this fic back in august. i'm going to miss accidentally tabbing over to it and seeing "the magical canine with giant balls" fill my screen.
> 
> 3\. originally semi was conceptualized as a veela, but veela are a harry potter invention (not to be confused with [vila](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supernatural_beings_in_Slavic_folklore#Vila), which inspired veela) so we didn't want to use it, and spent ages trying to find something else that fits. we went through a few ideas, including a basilisk of all things, and eventually i stumbled across [swan maidens](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swan_maiden). however, swan maidens are european in origin, so we figured japanese swan maidens would be considered tennin. swans aren't the only tennin, and the most common in japan are cranes. obviously semi kept the attractiveness that afflict veela, poor kid.
> 
> 4\. finally, if you're curious about who's what in fairytale au, i have a list [here](http://togekissies.tumblr.com/post/120902333878/fairytale-au-is-my-favorite-au-ever-and-i-forget). i have a bigger list of relationships and stuff in progress, but it's boring so idk if i'll ever finish it.
> 
> thanks for reading! i'll have the second half up in about a week.


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